The mini musicians of nature are the best similitude of ephemeral and evanescent character of life
Mother Nature is latent with dulcet musical symphonies, melodies and euphonies. Burbles resonating from the milky-looking gushing waterfalls, honeyed warbles of sweet and swift cuckoos, candied carols of soft-chested sparrows, frail baas of fleecy lambs echoing in the green velvety meadows, susurration of sea waves lashing the sea shores, rustling of tree branches encountering a gusty wind, lullabies crooned by mothers to solace their tantruming children, pitter patter of rains striking metallic and non-metallic surfaces, and buzzing of bumblebees circumambulating aromatic flowers – are a few vivid instances of musical manifestation in the nature. But, everybody is not envisioned and adept to discern the jazzy lilts of the nature. Those who possess a super sense can perceive the spontaneous orchestration of the nature alone.
Music is somewhat the soul of the universe. The music is probably an abstract element of our creation. A mere scratch of a string spreads symphonious vibes through our spines. And, it reckons the fact that we are teemed with music through and through. Sometimes even creaking of a door, tingle of coins and accidental clunk of utensils, look pleasantly cool to our ears; means music is embedded in nature itself. Mellifluent musical renditions emanating from the nature balm our bruises and boils. Though the deluge of internet has made every tone and chord easily available and accessible to us all, but the saccharinity of the olden days has somewhat vanished into the thin air. The modern music at times seems but only a commotion of hullabaloo. The nature has its own ways to soothe and enthrall us, but we either ignore it or lack the sensation to recognize it. We can get rid of the clamour and fuss, if we delve deep into the resonance of the Mother Nature.
Very recently, I paid a visit to a local coppice of dense, tall and lofty willow trees, to beat the heat of the sweltering summer. The olive-tinge canopy of the sublime willow trees didn’t allow the scorching prickly heat rays to penetrate through. I leaned against an old willow tree trunk, spread and straightened my legs on the soft silky surface of grass. A sweet breeze of fresh air soothed my scalded soul, removed the venom of sizzling and blistering heat. I felt relieved and rejuvenated in the lap of Mother Nature. Nests of different birds on the branches of the willows ran a fairyland sensation through my nerves. I imagined myself parallel to Alice in her wonderland. I could see mother birds allofeeding their young ones happily, male birds weaving nests laboriously, optimism in the eyes of the chicks to get their prey, and the altruistic and generous gestures of ‘mamta’ bringing every nibble of food for their offsprings. The sight doubled my love and respect for my parents.
And the journey didn’t stop here. Dozens of different childhood adventures flushed upon the canvas of my brain. The willow thicket used to be one of my cherished childhood destinations. I rode the imaginary horse that took me down my memory lane. The brown bark of the trees at once reminded of a musician, called “The Cicada”. A tiny winged black creature with prominent eyes, known for its ceaseless shrill songs. The cicadas are synonymous with autumn because they appear with the inception of the harvest season. The deep deafening sound of the cicadas would often provoke us to chase them. Imprisoning these sweet-sounding creatures in our empty match boxes was our cherished pastime. But, contrary to our wishes and longings, the noisy musicians would become mum in the small prisons. Bondage and servitude silences even insects and birds, I realized then. The insignificant looking fact taught us a great lesson that slavery retards growth and the ability to express ourselves. God has created freedom prior to the inception of life on the planet earth. So, there should be a no lines to divide the creation of Allah (SWT)
Well, the chorusing of the cicadas loudly proclaims the culmination of laborious toil of our farmer brethren. They euphorically apprise the industrious class that their months’ long diligent exertion has borne fruit. The cicadas are probably the first to announce the mellowness of the autumn. With the first articulation of the maestros, the farmers begin to hone their sickles and clean their granaries to store the new yield. The tuneful reverberation of saccharinity into the environs creates a festive mood and aura among the farmers. The advent of the cicadas is reckoned auspicious and propitious by farming fraternity. More the cicadas, bumper the harvest is believed to be. But, now, the relentless and excessive usage of chemical sprays in our farmlands and orchards has drastically reduced the cicada population, and consequently, we have been almost deprived of a legacy. Hey my musical friends – The tree trunks are waiting for you, come and sing for me!
The mini musicians of nature are the best similitude of ephemeral and evanescent character of life. The cicadas come with merry songs on their tymbals, spread joys and exquisitely jubilant vibes across the lands, but vanish in a month or two. And mournfully, we forget them as if they weren’t born. Their songs go into oblivion. Neither the crystal-clear white winters nor the blooming springs remember them anymore. O Ibni Adam – You are going to meet the same fate. You might be paramountly important to the world, but, your eternal departure will close your account for ever. Your death will not make any difference to the world. Neither the sun, nor the moon will refuse to rise with your departure to the other world. People will forget you like the boisterous cicadas.
(Author is a Teacher and a Columnist. He can be reached at [email protected])
Box: The cicadas come with merry songs on their tymbals, spread joys and exquisitely jubilant vibes across the lands, but vanish in a month or two. And mournfully, we forget them as if they weren’t born. Their songs go into oblivion. Neither the crystal-clear white winters nor the blooming springs remember them anymore
